The inconsistent thoughts of a comedian and quizzer.

The Last Push.

I have been very lucky. It is hard to moan when numbers have been good and reveiwers have been kind. I do wonder sometimes where my comedy career might be floundering without the veneer of minor celebrity, but so be it.

Whilst crossing every finger and touching all available wooden structures, my sanity, voice and health are all intact. I am damn proud of the show, even if on at least three occasions the audience seemed to majorly disagree. Such is the nature of the fringe. By far the most important audience member liked it though. My ex.

The Stand Comedy Club have been amazing. Across the rest of the Fringe are many great shows in terrible, illness-inducing venues* The uber professional staff at the Stand have ensured that my show starts at 1655 on the dot every day, and I never have even the slightest complaint. Various factors have served to geographically isolate the venues from the main hub of the Fringe, and the usual names who delude themselves into calling themselves comedy journalists, have shamefully never ventured anywhere near, but the Stand remains a defiant network of excellent venues full of excellent people. I can’t see myself ever doing a show anywhere else.

*Monkey Barrel and the Tron are superb spaces.

As for other shows, well they have all been brilliant in their own ways. Hannah Gadsby, Glenn Wool, Matt Ewins have been rightly earning accolades, but it has been inspiring to watch so many acts of every level of status and skill busting a gut to bring their passion pieces to a wider audience. Themes that have recurred include mental illness, trauma, comedians whinging about comedians talking about mental illness and trauma, sexual experimentation, LGBT abbreviations, gay marriage, Trump, Brexit and especially lefty disillusionment with lefties. Despite this bleak sounding list, there is enough joyful silliness about as well. It is a bewilderingly massive and varied smorgasbord and any attempt to make crass and lazy generalisations would be crass and lazy.

Edinburgh seems to be struggling though. Not the Festival, the city. As the festival expands exponentially, the strain on the city is palpable. It is a city of amazing sights and great bars and restaurants. But the time taken to get from A to B is getting longer, and on a Saturday night there is barely room to move in the Old Town. Meanwhile the Ibis Hotel on Nicholson Street continues to cheerfully advertise rooms for £250 and upwards.

But I am content. Proud that I have given it my best shot and that I have a new show to tour. The show is definitively not for the prurient, nor for those whose only interest in me is as a Chaser. I can also say without any doubt that I have no idea where this show would be without the help of friends, family, supportive promoters and especially my agent, and my boyfriend. And of course, lovely audiences.